


Jesse McCree and the Dragon's Heart

by Thighz



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Blood and Injury, Dragons, Family Secrets, Genyatta - Freeform, Gun Violence, Heartbreak, Indiana Jones AU, Inspired by Indiana Jones, Light Angst, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Reaper76 - Freeform, Rituals, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-05 05:37:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14037327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thighz/pseuds/Thighz
Summary: Hanzo Shimada. Archaeologist. Sharpshooter. A little bit infatuated with the explorer he's always bumping into.Jesse McCree. Explorer. Sharpshooter. Certified Damsel in Distress™.Together, they search for the Dragon's heart; an amulet stolen from Hanzo's estate when he was young, resulting in the murder of his father and entire clan. However, the amulet is more powerful than Hanzo led anyone to believe and its secrets are a millennia old.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a hush hush secret for _months_ but it is finally time to present it to you all!
> 
> My Mchanzo Mini Bang! The Indiana Jones AU.
> 
> Part One of the Artwork by the amazing doriftokingu can be found: [here](https://doriftoart.tumblr.com/post/172133866649/my-first-piece-for-the-mcbigbang)! And part two: [here](https://doriftoart.tumblr.com/post/172138488509/my-2nd-piece-for-the-mcbigbang-once-again-for)  
> !
> 
>  
> 
> _Enjoy_

 

 

 

**Jesse McCree and the search for the Dragon's Heart**

 

 

 

_**Prologue** _

 

 

 

 

“Long ago; there were two brothers.”

Ten-year old Hanzo rolls over in his bed at the sound of his father’s voice. Genji’s soft gasp follows and the seven-year-old wiggles under the covers, face bright and eager as their father settles on the side of his bed to tell the story.

“The dragon of the north wind and the dragon of the south wind. Together, they ruled the heavens and brought peace to the earth below. They ruled in harmony and with their blessing, the world remained in perfect balance.” Sojiro’s hands fluttered through the air like the very dragons he spoke of, looking less of a regal leader and more of a father. Hanzo curls up into his pillow and watches with a muted version of Genji’s fascination.

“After thousands of years in the sky, the dragons became restless and grew despondent at always hovering above the world. So the dragon of the south wind proposed they walk on two legs amongst their loyal followers and make merry the festivities on the ground below.” Genji’s fingers curl tight into the bedsheets and Hanzo can not help but smile, as this is his favorite part, “They danced for seven days and reveled in the bountiful harvest of their human subjects.” A dramatic pause, “Until they came upon a homeless man and woman holding a starving young baby. The festival humans paid them no mind, jeering at their misfortune and continuing on their merry way.” Sojiro lowered his voice, “The dragons grew angry at the heartless. Did not think they could leave the earth with such misery on its surface. So they blessed the couple with a golden amulet carved with two jade dragons set with emerald stones for eyes surrounding a sapphire jewel.” Their father does some fancy motions with his hands and pulls out the described amulet from his sleeve. It glints in the moonlight shining in from the windows, “ ‘Take this’ The North wind said, ‘Take it and be blessed by us. Give birth to sons, to daughters, and with every generation, we will give you ourselves to fight against the injustice of this world.’” 

Genji lets out a soft sound of wonder, “Our dragons.” 

Sojiro nods, “When you come of age, they will come to you in a dream.” He reaches forward and smooths the hair from Genji’s brow, “And they will see into your heart and offer you a gift.”

Genji’s dark eyes dart over to Hanzo and he jumps, attempting to shrink under his covers. Sojiro follows his youngests gaze and Hanzo swallows.

“Hanzo already has his dragons.” Genji whispers.

“He does.” Sojiro murmurs, “Earlier than any in our families long history.”

Hanzo rubs at the sleeve of his night robe subconsciously as though he can feel the inked skin between the fabric and his palm. He remembers the moment, the day, the dream. The look of wonder on Genji’s face when he woke and his entire left side was nothing but blue and black ink.

“Two dragons.” Genji flops back onto his pillows, “I wonder if I’ll get two.”

Sojiro’s laugh is soft, gentle, “Only the oldest gets two, as is tradition.”

“Lucky.” Genji sticks his tongue out at Hanzo.

Hanzo rolls onto his back.

_ Your heart is clouded by duty. As was mine once. But my only question for you is: are you prepared to do what you must to protect what is yours? _

Eight years old and asked such a question.

What was Hanzo to say?

Genji? Father? Who was  _ his _ ?

_ Yes or no, young one. _

Hanzo had said yes with such conviction, such honesty. 

He’d thought it a frivolous dream given to him by Genji’s constant need to have the same story told before bed.

“Get some rest, my sons.” Sojiro rises from the bed, leaning forward to place a kiss on Genji’s temple. He does not do the same for Hanzo.

When the door slides shut behind their fathers retreating figure, Hanzo can hear Genji throwing back the covers and tiptoeing across the distance between beds. He lets out a heavy sigh as the youngest crawls into the bed beside him.

“Can I see them?” Genji whispers.

Hanzo turns his head to the side, “You ask every night.”

“I’m jealous.” Genji looks meek and nervous, “I’m afraid I’ll fail.”

Hanzo scrunches his brows together, “How would you fail? Genji. You have the biggest heart in this family.”

“What if I’m not what the dragon needs? What if I’m not strong enough. I can’t draw a bow like you or swing a sword properly.”

Hanzo rolls onto his side so they’re lying face to face, “You are young. One day you will wield a blade. The dragon will know.”

Genji’s sigh is one of relief, even though Hanzo has had this same discussion with him at least twice a week.

Then:

“What does it feel like?” That’s a new one.

Hanzo already knows how to answer it, “It is like a - presence under my skin. Warm, assuring. When I am angry, it boils and shifts like it is trying to escape.” He swallows, “It is a comfort. I am always protected.”

“Wow.” Genji breathes reverently. 

“Get some sleep.” Hanzo admonishes.

“Yea yea.” Genji swats Hanzo’s shoulder and rolls out of the bed.

The room is dark but Hanzo can still make out his brother settling back into bed. He relaxes into his own mattress, closing his eyes and lulling himself to sleep with the sound of his brothers steady breaths. 

He wakes to glass breaking.

It jerks him from his slumber and his heart races as it happens again and again. A muffled scream and hurried footsteps along the corridors. He turns his head to Genji, whose eyes are wide behind the barrier of his blanket.

“What’s going -.” 

The door bursts open and their father stumbles inside. He slams it shut and Hanzo is already out of bed, a desperate question on his tongue. But there is blood dripping down the sides of Sojiro’s face and his eyes are wide as both hands curl around Hanzo’s shoulders, “You must hide.”

Genji lets out a soft, scared sound.

“You must take your brother -.” Sojiro rushes to the closet, shuffling clothing and tapping along the wall, “And hide until you hear nothing but silence.” A panel comes loose and Hanzo is dragging Genji from the bed in seconds, surrounding him in a robe and rushing to their father’s side.

“What is going on?” Hanzo whispers.

“Do not come out.” Sojiro pushes them into the hidden crevice, “Not for me. Not for anyone.”

Genji muffles a sob into the arm of Hanzo’s robe.

Sojiro puts the panel back into place and slide the closet door shut, but it bounces and stays open just wide enough for Hanzo to see through the cracks of both panel and door. Sojiro shuffles around the room, heading for the window and throwing it open as the door to their room blasts against the floor.

“Where is it?” A voice demands.

Sojiro whirls on his feet, face angry even with blood leaking down the side. His fists are clenched at his sides but he does not fight even as two men flank him and shove him to his knees. 

“Find it.” The same voice snarls.

The two men search through their fathers robes and the amulet is what returns.

“Good.” A nasty, twisted laugh as a gnarled hand stretches out to take the artifact from the lackie, “I’ve been waiting fifteen years for this moment, Shimada.”

Sojiro snarls, “You will be waiting a thousand more if you think it will do anything for you.”

The amulet flips into the air once, twice, “I’ll be the judge of that, I think.” The hand disappears, “Kill him. Then find the escaped sons and kill them too. No Shimada survives.” 

Hanzo inhales, eyes wide as a gun is set at the back of his father’s skull. He slaps a hand over Genji’s eyes and mouth.

The gunshot is the last thing he hears.

  
  
  


 

\------

 

 

**Part One**

_ Central America - Twenty Years Later _

  
  
  


 

 

 

 

Hanzo double checks the map in his hands one last time, tapping his compass across the wrinkled surface. It yields to the pointed end, but X marks the spot and he’s 90% sure this is going to be a monumental find for the tribe.

Said tribe is hovering behind him, muttering in their native tongue and he can only make out bits and pieces of it. Excitement, trepidation, worry that it will change what they’ve adapted into. It’s not every day they uncover a lost part of history for their people.

So he’s careful with his wording and calls his excavation team in close.

“What’s the word, Shimada?”

Hanzo taps the map with the blunt end of the compass, “This will be it. Handle it delicately. If there was any ill events that brought about the lost villages demise, we will find remains.”

One of the women nods, her red hair curled around a pale face, “Are we tagging and bagging?”

Hanzo purses his lips, “It will be at the approval of the village head.” His eyes flick over where the man stands, staff in hand and body paint extravagant over his flesh, “They may want to bury the dead. This offer between Overwatch and the village is on their terms, not our own. We are here to assist and study what we can.”

“Got it.” She nods, “Alright everyone. Get your gear.” She spins on her heels and starts barking out the coordinates from the map.

Hanzo folds it up and slips it in the front pocket of his weathered pack before tossing it over his right shoulder. The leader walks up to him.

“ _ Do you require help from our men? _ ”

Hanzo bows his head, “ _ If they wish to assist, we will make room for them. _ ”

“ _ Very well. _ ” He waves his free hand and shouts a handful of different names, “ _ They speak your tongue limitedly.”  _

Hanzo nods and the village men follow his team into the thicket of the jungle.

The four-wheelers and jeeps rumble at a steady pace alongside the walkers. Hanzo takes out the map to make sure they’re going in the right direction and his driver is too chatty. He talks about his wife and kids, how much he misses them, but this dig was a monetary opportunity he couldn’t turn down.

Hanzo hums at the appropriate times, but has no desire to engage. He is not one to enjoy the thought of settling down. Archeology has been his life for fifteen years and he doesn't plan to give that up to continue his bloodline.

Not that there is much of a bloodline to continue.

He and Genji are the last.

A glance out the window and a joyous shout from one of the village men brings Hanzo’s head up.

The site is mostly vines and rock. A cliffs edge, razor sharp and obviously missing a huge chunk sits to the left. It looks no different than the rest of the crowded jungle, except for a neat row of stones punching an inch out of packed dirt and grass.

His jeep rolls to a stop ten feet away from it and Hanzo climbs out, using the bar on the top of the jeep to step down. The redhead - Tabitha - is already walking his way, toolkit in hand and a wide grin across her face.

“You’ll do the honors, oh esteemed leader.”

Hanzo chuckles and takes the offered kit, boots steady across the forest floor. The stone is beautiful, even weathered and cracked and buried in dirt.

“Set up a perimeter. If their ancestors passed down anything, it would be how the basic layout of a homestead would be designed.” He throws out an arm as he squats down to meet the stone, “So use the measurements Jeckle took from the Village and set up a baseline perimeter from the center of the stones.”

“Gotcha.” Tabitha executes a sloppy salute and heads back to the convoy.

Hanzo glances back to the stone in the ground, runs a gloved hand over the surface. He tugs the glove off and touches it with his bare palm. It’s cool, cracked, beautifully crafted. No doubt it’s some form of entrance to the village. An archway of some sort.

He imagines unearthing it. The village in all its rotted splendor. What will they find? Who will they find?

The convoy unloads and voices rise and fall behind him as he meticulously cleans around the edges of the stone. He digs a trench around it until a least of foot of the grey rock is visible enough to confirm his archway theory.

He is proven right an hour later as the first half is unearthed.

The village men cheer and the team slaps Hanzo on the shoulder.

“Now the hard work starts.” Hanzo mutters.

But of course, that’s his favorite part.

  
  


 

 

\---------

  
  


 

 

It takes close to a month to get half of the village brought to light. A gruelling thirty days of limited sleep and bugs crawling around in his cot. Hanzo loves his job, but he spent the first part of his life in a lap of luxury and no amount of college could prepare him for hot, jungle nights with snoring men.

He lies awake in his private tent, the morning light just shy of peeking through the thicket of trees above them. Generators are humming and someone is wondering about trying to set the fire up to chase the wet chill from the air.

He decides nows a good a time as any to take his morning jog. Before the hustle and bustle of the camp comes to life and he is whisked away with one question or another.

It takes him but a moment to pull up his pants, tucking them into the edge of his boots and lacing up the fronts. He loathes wearing long sleeved shirts to run, but in a territory with bugs that can send you to the hospital, he decides against his usual muscle shirt. He’ll be back to civilization in a few weeks.

The firestarter greets him as he exits his tent and the sunlight is reaching the edge of the horizon.

He takes off in a low-level jog, making sure he keeps his breathing steady as he runs the trail he cleared out at the beginning of the month. He’s not the only one who takes it down, Tabitha and Jeckle like to sneak off in the evenings to run together. Not that it’s any of Hanzo’s business what  _ else _ they decide to do out in the jungle.

His nose wrinkles at the thought.

He passes up the two mile marker and knows he’ll need to circle back to the camp.

A shout gives him pause.

Chest pumping from the exertion, his forehead crinkles as he takes a swig of water and listens for the call again. Just a bird, he thinks.

But -

“Can a fella get a helping hand around here?”

Hanzo’s eyebrows go up at the muffled voice. He turns to the left, squinting into the trees. There’s nobody there.

“Gosh dang traps all over the damn place.” Rustling leaves and a hearty, nasty curse.

Hanzo pulls a pocket knife from the depths of a pants pocket and slips through the brush and vine. The cursing doesn’t stop, nor does the sound of a shaking branches.

He breaks through into a clearing and a body is hanging from a tree by the ankle. A worn cowboy hat is on the ground, upside down. The man is spinning around in a circle, grunting and cussing as he tries to reach the rope around his leg with a knife.

“Who even uses traps like this anymore?” The thick, accented english sends Hanzo spinning through time.

When he was younger. Foolish.

In -

“ _ McCree _ ?”

“The fuc-” The knife falls out the man’s hand and hits the ground beside the hat. His head of too-long brown hair falls back and a familiar, handsome face complete with overgrown beard greets him. 

“Well ain’t you a sight for sore eyes. Hanzo!” He throws out his arms, grin splitting his mouth wide.

“We are in the middle of the jungle.” Hanzo hisses, “What are you doing here?”

Jesse swings to a fro for a moment, “That is a very good question.” He points a finger at Hanzo, “I was taking a walk.”

Hanzo squints down at him, arms crossed over his chest, “Taking a walk.” He mutters, “In the central american jungle.”

“Exactly.” Jesse points so hard he starts swinging again.

“Are you following me?” Hanzo asks, reaching down to pick up the knife beside the cowboy hat.

A short scoff, “No.” A pause, “Sorta.”

Hanzo sighs and walks over to the trunk of the tree McCree is caught on. He scales it to the proper branch in two smooth leaps. The rope is stronger than he anticipates, which makes sense considering the amount of weight it has to hold. He feels no remorse as the last strand snaps under the sharp edge of the blade and Jesse hits the ground with a muffled ‘oomf’.

“Ow, darlin’ was that landing necessary?” Jesse sits up, rubbing at the back of his neck and patting around for his hat. He finds it with a curl of his fingers and plops it, leaves and dirt and all, on the top of his head.

Hanzo drops at his side, boots and legs absorbing the impact. He stretches out a hand and Jesse takes it with a grin.

He watches the cowboy dust off his pants and slip the knife into a holster on his belt.

Hanzo gives him a total of thirty seconds to shake off the landing and the dirt before wrapping a hand in the front of his shirt and yanking him forward, “Why are you following me?”

Another of those wide, charming grins. It infuriates him.

“Told ya, I was taking a walk.”

“You are lucky the villagers did not find you first.” Hanzo snaps, “They would be less kind to a stranger in their territory.”

“I missed you too, Hanzo.” Jesse backs away as Hanzo loosens his grip on the shirt.

The feeling is  _ not _ mutual, Hanzo thinks, spinning around on his heels to head back to the camp. He can hear the fall of Jesse’s boots following behind him. He’s whistling a tune and no doubt walking with his hands his pockets and acting like nothing in this jungle could touch him. Once upon a time, Hanzo would have been impressed, curious, infatuated, with that demeanor. 

Now it just pisses him off.

  
  


 

 

\--------

  
  


 

 

As much as Hanzo protests inwardly; Jesse is a valuable asset to any dig. He is not an idiot and no matter the strange cowboys ulterior motives for being out in the middle of the jungle; Hanzo is not going to turn down the help. 

Jesse McCree, for all his bravado and charm, is whip smart. As soon as Hanzo directs him to where he’ll be stationed, he doesn't hesitate to dive right into the job. He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing a prosthetic up to the elbow of his left arm and the tanned flesh of his right. He grabs a set of tools and gets to work.

Hanzo doesn’t realize he’s staring until Tabitha clears her throat beside him. He startles, dropping the pencil he was holding on the table. It rolls across the surface of the excavation map and hits the ground.

“Rumor has it you found some guy wandering around in the jungle.” She says, “That him?”

“McCree.” Hanzo bends down to retrieve the pencil, “He will mostly likely ask you to refer to him as Jesse.”

“Haven’t I seen him before?”

“On the cover of a wanted poster, perhaps.” Hanzo sniffs, returning to marking up the sitemap with his trusty pencil. 

She snickers and rests her hip against the edge of the table, “No. I mean. Around Overwatch.”

Hanzo closes his eyes, “He is an acquaintance of Reyes.”

“But not hired by?” He can hear the frown in her voice, “What’s he doing all the way out here with us?”

“Following me.” Hanzo provides easily, checking off a cleared section of the excavation.

“That’s not creepy.” She murmurs.

Hanzo turns his head towards her, “He is freelancer. He will not work directly for Overwatch, but he will follow our teams and jump in for easy money.” 

“So a scavenger.” She glances over in Jesse’s direction.

“A crude term, but accurate.” Hanzo agrees, “Start calling out for breaks. The day is half done and everyone will require water and food soon.”

She gives a nod and walks in the direction of the cliff side to inform the first team of their lunch break.

Hanzo stares down at the map. Nearly eighty percent of the site has been dug up, cataloged, and all proper artifacts returned to the natives. It’s his most successful dig in a while, much to the joy of Overwatch’s owners.

Which means he’ll be sent back to headquarters for paperwork and then hopefully get the requisition approved for his next quest. Hanzo doesn’t remember the last time he spent more than six months somewhere. Most of his life has been traveling, digging, traveling some more.

“They ain’t kiddin’ about the humidity down here.” Jesse drawls as he walks up. His hat is hanging off the back of his neck by a string and he’s wiping the sweat away with a damp rag.

Hanzo only glances at him before returning his gaze to the map on his table. It doesn’t last long, Jesse’s hip replaces Tabitha’s on the edge of the table. His shirt rides up over the edge of his pants, revealing another taste of tan skin. It has not been so long that he doesn’t remember what that strip of flesh tastes like on his tongue, but he has been burned by McCree enough to know he no longer has a craving for it.

“When you heading back?”

Hanzo signs off on the bottom of the map, “I will be here until Friday and then my work will be done.” He points at the crews ahead of them, “They will clear the last ten percent of the dig site and return all religious artifacts to the tribe.”

“And where are you goin’ next?” Hanzo can hear the grin in his voice.

He glances up to meet Jesse’s gaze, “I have heard whispers of the Dragon’s Heart resurfacing on the black market.”

_ That _ gets Jesse’s attention. He straightens, arms dropping from where they were crossed and jaw set, “You sure?”

Hanzo frowns down at the map, “Forty percent sure.” He sighs and rubs subconsciously at the tattoo hidden under his jacket, “It pinged Sombra two months ago while I was here.”

Jesse whistles, “You been lookin’ for that a hot minute.” He leans over the table, “Whereabouts we talking though?”

Hanzo drops his hand and starts rummaging around for his atlas. He drops it over the site map and flips through until he gets to the dog-eared page for Egypt. There’s a bright blue circle around a small city to the west of the nile. He sets his finger beneath the circle, “That last place it crossed hands was here.”

“So that means -.” Jesse bites his bottom lip, eyebrows furrowing, “That whoever stole it in the first place lost track of it.”

“Precisely,” Hanzo nods, “Which means every treasure hunter and high-level gang on the planet is going to be looking for it.”

Jesse lifts an eyebrow, “Overwatch want it that bad? They willin’ to go toe-to-toe with organizations like Talon and Deadlock?”

“Not Overwatch.” Hanzo snaps his atlas shut, “Just me. I am taking sabbatical after this dig to do this own my own.”

Jesse shakes his head, “That’s crazy!”

“Indeed.” Hanzo mutters, “But I have spent twenty years of my career searching for this. I will not let it get away now that there is a chance.”

Jesse’s metal hand clamps around his bicep and Hanzo looks up, meeting that concerned brown gaze, “No little amulet is worth riskin’ your life. Is someone payin’ ya to find it?”

Hanzo tilts his head, “In a way, yes. The reasons are personal. You know this.”

The hand tightens, then falls away.

It did not matter how many times Hanzo had taken Jesse to bed. Or how many sweet, beautiful words were pressed between them with mouth and hands. Hanzo would tell no one how invested he was to find his family heirloom.

He would trust no one.

Not even the man he used to love.

  
  
  


 

 

\--------

 

 

  
  


Hanzo is dressed down for his last evening and packing up the inside of his tent when Jesse comes knocking.

He raps on the pole holding the door up and wiggles a dark shape that Hanzo makes out as a bottle of alcohol, “Figured we could celebrate yer last day and a successful dig.” A chuckle, “Not like you’ve ever had an  _ unsuccessful  _ one.”

Hanzo hesitates, hands hovering over his last case of clothing. He should not let him in. Bad things happened when he sat should to shoulder with Jesse McCree and imbibed. Hanzo is strong, but not in the wake of everything McCree is.

“Come in.” He hears himself saying.

The zip moves as Jesse opens it and the cowboy shakes off his boots to enter the tent. Hanzo rummages through one of his other bags to find a set of plastic tumblers. Jesse takes them and settles on the edge of Hanzo’s bed, pouring out the first one and handing it to Hanzo before pouring one for himself. He sets the bottle at his socked feet and lifts the glass.

Hanzo stands across from him and the glasses rattle together as they collide.

“Thanks for savin’ my ass out there, darlin’.” Jesse grins up at him as he lifts the tumbler to his lips.

Hanzo rubs his thumb over the ridges of the glass, “You are always in need of saving when I am around, it seems.”

“Complete coincidence.” Jesse assures, “I really was just dropping down for a visit. Reyes said you’d been here for a while and could use some help wrapping things up.”

“I have a cell phone.” Hanzo arches an eyebrow, “You did not think to call ahead? I could have sent a jeep to fetch you.”

Jesse waves his free hand, “I enjoy the trekking. You know that.”

Hanzo swallows down a sharp sip of the whiskey. He knows. He  _ knows _ more about Jesse than he should. It was one of the reasons why he stepped away, cut ties, pretended the cowboy was not always in his field of vision.

Attachments were dangerous. Hanzo could not afford to align himself with someone he could lose so easily.

“Where will you go after this?” Hanzo decides to change the subject to save his twisting emotions.

“Thinkin’ about heading back to the states for a bit.” Jesse muses, resting his forearms on his thighs, “Been knocking around Europe for a bit up until Reyes rang me up about this dig.” He motions around the tent, “Didn’t know you were  _ this _ close to finishing.”

Hanzo’s throat tightens, “Oh?”

Jesse’s glass rests on his knee and those beautiful, knowing brown eyes flick up, “Kinda wanted to catch up with you. Been a while, Hanzo.”

There it was.

Hanzo closes his eyes with a world-weary sigh, “Jesse -.”

“Oh. Now you want to use my name.” Jesse grumbles.

“If you think you can come in here and expect this to be like ‘old times’.” Hanzo takes a deep breath, “I can not.”

Jesse’s eyes fall to the ground, “Why not?”

Hanzo takes the empty glass from Jesse’s hands and returns it to the bag it came from. When he turns around, Jesse is already making his way to the front of the tent looking wounded.

Hanzo swallows, “Jesse.”

The cowboy makes a half-turn of his head.

“You know why.”

“Yea.” Jesse mumbles, pushing the door open, “I know.”  
  


 

 

\--------

 

 

 

Overwatch HQ is one of the largest buildings in Gibraltar.

The entire side facing the sea is nothing but solar glass and recycled metal beams. It’s simple in its design, made 70 percent from recycled material and the only building on the island to be fully powered by the sun.

It is also Hanzo’s home away from home, so to say.

The car drops him off at the front of the building and the driver assures him his belongs will be delivered to his room post haste. Hanzo slips him a few bills despite his protesting and heads into the building.

The inside does not match the outside.

Each wall is decorated with ornate artifacts, scrolls, glass frames full of history. Some Hanzo recognizes as his own finds, other belonging to various archaeologists employed under the Reyes-Morrison team.

The secretary behind an oval desk beams as he steps around his desk to get to the elevators, “Welcome back, Mr. Shimada!”

Hanzo nods once and enters through the sliding doors. He presses the button for the top floor, enters the access code and hopes the alarm dings loud enough for both men upstairs to hear. He is not interested in a repeat of the last time he walked into their office.

Lucky for him, both Gabriel and Jack are fully dressed and staring down at an open manila folder when he steps into their office. Gabriel glances up as he crosses the distance between the elevator and desk.

“Welcome back. McCree give you any trouble?” Gabriel grins.

Hanzo scowls, “Do you mean showing up three days before my leave was scheduled or the unfortunate part where I had to cut him out of a tree?”

“Again?” Jack finally looks up, blonde brow high over his right eye.

The fact this it is apparently a recurring thing with McCree does not surprise Hanzo in the slightest. He hands over the copies he made of the site details for the excavation and Jack takes them with a smile.

“Moving straight on?” Gabriel inquires.

“That depends.” Hanzo raises his chin, “Did you approve my sabbatical?”

“Do I like the thought of you going on a wild goose chase without our backing, you mean?” Jack asks innocently.

Hanzo deflates, “It is something I must do on my own.”

Gabriel clicks his tongue, looking just as disapproving as Jack sounds, “At least let us pay for the hotels and flights.”

Hanzo shakes his head, “I can not have you affiliated with this.” Both Jack and Gabriel make a face, but he continues, “Overwatch can not be aligned with black market dealings. This artifact is highly coveted.”

“Why?” Gabriel hisses, “Why is this so goddamn important?”

Hanzo steels himself, “You would not believe me if I told you.”

Because Hanzo feels stripped without his dragons. He feels bitter and angry that his brother never got to meet his own. How greedy, power hungry men stole their family history and their father all with one pull of the trigger.

Jack and Gabriel Reyes-Morrison are archaeologists first.

They do not believe in magic the way Hanzo and Genji do. They did not grow up on the stories, or wake up one morning with power under their skin, only to have it ripped away the further the amulet traveled.

“Fine.” Jack grouses, “Granted.”

Gabriel straightens up and puts a finger against Hanzo’s chest, “But you if you run into any trouble. If you need us for any goddamn thing, you don’t hesitate to ask. Am I clear?”

“Crystal.” Hanzo nods.

Jack waves to the elevators, “Check in with Sombra before you go. She’s in her usual hole.”

Hanzo bends forward in a bow, “My thanks.”

“Just come back alive.” Gabriel insists.

Hanzo wishes he could make them that promise, but he remains silent and retreats from the office. He can feel their eyes on his back long after the doors shut behind him.

  
  


 

\--------

  
  


 

 

Hanzo takes a day to suitably pack his bags and settle any lingering tasks within headquarters. He retrieves a few odds and ends from Sombra down in her dungeon in the basement of the building, picks up his storm bow from the armory and assembles her with a practiced ease.

He hopes he does not have to use her.

Just in case, he goes for a couple of rounds inside the buildings gymnasium.

“Where’s McCree?” Sombra appears at his elbow, face buried in a tablet.

“How should I know?” Hanzo wrinkles his nose and adjusts his stance to hit a moving target on the other end of the range.

She scoffs, “Normally he returns with you. Have a tiff?” There’s a smirk in her voice that Hanzo does not miss.

He lets the arrow fly and it hits the mark with a sharp thunk. He turns to face her, scowling, “He does not always return with me.”

“So you did have a tiff.” She glances up from her pad, “He’s usually at your heels when you return. Then you spend a couple of days in your room.”

“Please stay off of the surveillance cameras.” Hanzo lowers his bow with a sigh.

“I’m in  _ charge _ of the surveillance cameras.” She grins, “So the rumors true. You broke it off with him.”

Hanzo glances away.

Break off was such a harsh term for it. ‘Seperate himself from the inevitable’ sounded better in his head. Or at least, at the time it had. The look on Jesse’s face he could have done without. And the knowing, pity glances from Gabriel and Jack when he returned to HQ without Jesse in tow.

“Any reason why?” She ventures off-handedly. 

Hanzo scowls at the targets, “Not one I wish to share.”

“Fair enough.” She shrugs one shoulder and twists on her heels, “I’d suggest going out on the town before heading to Africa.”

Hanzo’s brow furrows, “Why?”

“Might be the last time you see it.” She replies cryptically.

Hanzo watches her disappear through the doors to the gym for a second before dismantling his bow and returning her to her case.

He does end up following Sombra’s advice by the end of the evening. He’s going stir crazy inside his room and his flight is early in the am, so he should not stay out too long -

He ends up in a in the back corner of a bar, a bottle of cheap sake at his elbow and his many journals and maps spread out on his tiny table. No one bothers him and the music is at an acceptable level for him to concentrate on his work and enjoy the muted sounds of a Wednesday night bar.

The maps do not tell him as much as the journals do. They carry years worth of research, from books he could not take with him, to notes scribbled in shorthand Japanese so no one would peek. So no one could steal the work he’s spent the better part of his life perfecting. Searching and searching even after Genji set a hand on his shoulder and said to just leave it be.

Then he’d waved goodbye to Hanzo and flew away to Nepal; where he has been for the last six years of their lives. Hopelessly and irrevocably in love with a bright-eyed monk who helps run the monastery where Genji resides.

Hanzo envies the kind of peace his brother has achieved. He wishes it for himself, but it is easy to attain peace when you have not lived with a dragon under your skin.

He rubs at his sweater-sleeve covered wrist and wonders if the phantom prickle is nothing more than a child’s dream.

No.

_ No. _

He shakes his head and checks over his itinerary for the foreseeable future.

A black market hideout in the bowels of the Nile’s desert lands. Where the highest bidders slobber all over stolen artifacts from tombs and collectors all over the world.

Hanzo does not expect it to be there. He just expects someone to give him a straight answer as to the hands it has passed on to.

Not an easy feat, he’s sure, but one that is assured to be a challenge. 

“Oh no you don’t.” The bartenders accented shout echoes over the acoustic guitar of the evening entertainment, “You owe me a tab!”

“Aww come on now. Is that any way to treat yer favorite customer?” The overconfident tone of one Jesse McCree brings Hanzo’s head up fast.

Hanzo watches as the bartender leans across the counter and points a finger at Jesse, who holds his hands up with a sheepish smile, “Until you pay your tab, you’re not welcome here.”

“That’s a right shame.” Jesse lowers his hands with a frown.

“Pay your tab then.” The bartender now points at the door, “Out with you.”

Jesse’s shoulders sink and his booted feet shuffle towards the door. Clearly, he has not seen Hanzo.

Hanzo is ready to leave it be and return to his itinerary, except two men from the shadows of a back room step forward. The bartender waves them over, jabs a finger at McCree’s back and rubs his thumb and forefinger together.

Hanzo narrows his eyes and slowly begins packing his belongings back into his pack. He watches the men step through the bar doors and no one bats an eye. The bartender takes care of a customer with a bright smile as he wipes down a section of the bar.

He thanks the man for his service, bowing out of the establishment and instantly locking on to the retreating backs of the ‘bouncers’.

They follow McCree a good ways from the bar, farther away from the Watchpoint and out of clear view of any cameras or public eye. Smart, but not smart enough if they have not noticed Hanzo following in their footsteps.

Jesse takes a sharp turn and the bouncers unsheath their guns; honestly, is that all people carry these days?

Hanzo slips to the edge of the building and Jesse is facing the men, hands in the air once more and wearing a shit-eating grin.

“Fellas. We meet again.”

“Wouldn’t have to meet at all if you paid your tab.” One brandishes his small pistol.

An easy target, if Hanzo had his bow. He does not.

“You know why I don’t pay my tab, Brucey.” Jesse waves his metal hand in the air, “Bartender is crooked as a boxers nose.”

“Not our problem.”

“Just because he pulls a mighty fine pint, don’t mean I gotta pay him to fuel his little side business.” Jesse scoffs.

The other bouncer levels his gun on Jesse, “Pay up.”

“Not gonna happen.” Jesse’s dark brown gaze locks with Hanzo’s, but darts away before the bouncers can catch it.

Hanzo drops into a crouch and slinks around the corner.

The bouncer named ‘Brucey’ snarls, “Then we take it from you.”

Jesse’s eyes crinkle in a smile, “If ya say so.”

Hanzo takes him out by the back of his knees, arm wrapping around his neck with a sharp yank so the gun jerks skyward. Two shots ring out and Hanzo is afraid he was too late.

But the second bouncer hits the ground with a shout, his gun skittering across the concrete as he slaps a hand on his now bleeding thigh.

Jesse stands with his revolver out, one eyebrow high and staring at Hanzo, “Nice save.”

Hanzo strangles Brucey until he passes out and the mass of man crumples at his feet. He takes a neat step over the body and scowls the entire way across the space to meet Jesse chest to chest.

“We gotta stop meeting like this, darlin’.” Jesse sheaths his peacekeeper and tips his hat down at Hanzo with a toothy grin.

“Me saving your on a constant basis?” Hanzo inquires.

Jesse chuckles, “I can always count on you to have my back.”

Hanzo sniffs and twists around to leave, “I would not hold your breath.”

Jesse’s laugh follows close on his heels as he heads back to HQ, “You don’t mean that.”

“I do not?” Hanzo keeps his stride quick, but Jesse’s legs are longer and he catches up to Hanzo in no time, still smiling away.

“We’d do well together as partners and you know it.” Jesse insists.

Hanzo  _ does _ know that.

Jesse is a brilliant man and together they could unearth every artifact on the planet and Hanzo would still thirst for another dig with him. But Jesse is a dangerous, enigmatic man with a quick smile and quicker wit.

And Hanzo is oh so weak.

“Come on now.” Jesse elbows him gently, “Word on the vine is you’re about to take a nice, long trip across the ocean to get yer artifact.”

_ Sombra. _

Hanzo huffs, “You are not supposed to be privy to that information.”

“Maybe not.” Jesse agrees, “But that didn’t stop everyone from insisting I ask you to let me tag along.”

Hanzo’s finger tighten around his pack, “Why?”

Jesse looks startled for a second, “Cuz you shouldn’t be doin’ this alone?”

“Alone is safer.”

“The hell it is.” Jesse snaps, “So you can end up bleeding in the sand on some continent where we can’t find you?”

Hanzo side-eyes him, “You underestimate my ability to take care of myself.”

“I know full well what you’re capable of, Hanzo.” Jesse lowers his voice, “Doesn’t mean I don’t worry about you. Me or Gabe or Jack. Hell, even Sombra.”

Hanzo’s shoulders slump and he sighs, “Are they truly that worried?”

“More than they let on, yea.” Jesse pulls a cigarette from the inside pocket of his jacket and lights it up, “Yer family to them now.” He takes a slow puff and the smoke curls out into the night air, much like the breath of a dragon, “That’s no easy feat. Gabe’s slow to trust and you’ve been on his good list for a long while.”

Hanzo is curiously flattered.

He eyes Jesse’s profile as they return to the Watchpoint together. The streets are slow with traffic and the lights are bright reminders that the night crowds will be pouring out of the bars near closing time.

“If I am to take you with me -.” Hanzo begins, “You must assure me you will listen.”

Jesse glances over, “Sure.”

“No.” Hanzo pauses, slapping a hand against Jesse’s chest to stop him in his tracks, “I am serious. No sidetracking. No wild stunts. No tricks.”

Jesse flicks the ash of the cig to the ground and holds Hanzo’s gaze steady, “I’ll listen. Promise.” He curls his metal hand over Hanzo’s and the too-close motion causes him to yank it back and tuck it into the pocket of his jacket.

He starts his march back to the watchpoint.

“So that’s a yes?” Jesse asks quietly.

Hanzo gives a sharp nod, “We leave at seven in the morning. See Sombra and book a ticket on the flight with me.”

Jesse snickers, “It’s already done, doll.”

Hanzo rolls his eyes at the sky and hopes this works out in his favor.

 

 

 

 


	2. Part Two

 

 

 

 

**Part Two**

 

 

 

  
  


Egypt is a hot, dry environment that Hanzo does not thrive in. He’s only ever been three times in his career; preferring the humid, sticky jungles and ice-encased tombs over deserts. McCree, however, will be resplendent under the hot Cairo sun.

Hanzo is also seriously considering a hat. Not like Jesse’s outlandish cowboy hat, but something to protect his face from the blinding rays.

The airport is bustling as they proceed through customs and await their limited luggage. Hanzo shows the proper paperwork Gabriel and Jack signed off on so he could access any protected ruins required.

“How exactly are we gonna get around?” Jesse questions as Hanzo grabs for their marked luggage from the conveyor belt.

“Reyes has an inside source.” Hanzo provides, “You will know her when you see her.” He leads Jesse through the throng of tourists and locals either departing or connecting.

Sure enough, a tall, broad-shouldered woman dressed in a security uniform waves to them from the front sliding doors. She’s taller than she was the last time Hanzo came to Egypt. Back then, she wasn’t quite done with her academy training.

“Well I’ll be damned.” Jesse whistles, “Fareeha!”

She practically beams when her eyes move from Hanzo to Jesse. So it’s no surprise that she envelopes the wannabe cowboy in an overzealous hug. Jesse lifts her off the ground with it, laughter loud and joyous.

“It is good to see you again, Amari.” Hanzo greets after Jesse finally lets her back down to her feet.

Fareeha takes his hand with a grin, “Been a while, Shimada. Gabe called ahead and said I should take you to all the hot spots.”

“Only if those hot spots include under the table dealings.” Hanzo lowers his voice, “I do not wish to get you in trouble. Reyes is not privy to the legality of my venture here.”

Fareeha waves a hand, “You can’t get anything past him. I have a few sources that know where the evening meeting will take place tonight. Hopefully, you’ll find out what you need.”

Hanzo should have known.

“Reyes is shadier than you think.” Jesse elbows him with a grin.

“I am beginning to understand how he and Jack have gotten wind of their artifacts now.” Hanzo squints suspiciously as Fareeha leads them to a perfectly normal grey car in the parking lot.

Not that he can blame his bosses. The world has all but discovered the remains left behind from times past. Hanzo is no stranger to slipping under the table to get the information required. His family  _ did _ eventually evolve into a Yakuza faction.

Of course, there are only two Shimada’s left. His connections are useless now and if Reyes has what Hanzo needs, he plans to take full advantage of that asset.

Once they’re in the car and the doors are shut, Fareeha pulls a folder from under her seat and passes it to Hanzo.

His eyebrows go up as he takes it from her and can feel Jesse peering over his shoulder from the backseat. He opens it slowly and his heart surges into his throat.

The picture of his family heirloom is still as breathtaking as it has always been. Since he was a child. Since his father held it before his eyes and made him swear to only use his dragon for just deeds.

He runs his fingers over the colored photograph.

“It’s not in Egypt.” Fareeha starts the car, “Hasn’t been for about 72 hours.” She merges into traffic with practiced ease, “But the black market meeting will be a good place to find out where it changed hands and whose hands have it.”

Jesse whistles long and low, “That’s a mighty fine piece of jewelry.” A pause, “That what you’re so hell bent on finding? It’s a necklace.”

“It is worth more than you think.” Hanzo hedges.

Best they think he’s doing this for the price tag instead of the emptiness emitting from his arm and soul.

“It’s real jade?” Fareeha asks.

Hanzo dips his chin in a nod, “And very, very old.”

“So if it’s so sought after -.” Jesse begins, “How come it’s not all over the news? Or even known in the professional world.”

Hanzo chuckles, “That would be because there is a story for dragon artifacts in every culture. Gods depicted as dragons. Dragons as Gods. There are many, something so simple as an amulet that could be bought at the local flea market is of no use.” He lifts a finger at Jesse, “Unless you know where to look.”

Jesse purses his lips, “So where did it come from?”

“Excellent question.” Hanzo folds the picture up and puts it in the front pocket of his jacket. He rifles through the rest of the documents, mostly stolen phone records asking about it, blurry dealings, and - he frowns, “What is this?” A photo of a set of hieroglyphs with the amulet as a centerpiece. 

“Got someone around here saying it was carved in Alexandria and was found by early archaeologists in a tomb around Asyut.” Fareeha replies.

Lies. Hanzo stares down at the photo. The amulet has never left his families hands. Not since its creation. 

“You don’t look convinced.” Jesse says.

“These dragons are not Egyptian.” Hanzo pulls the photo out again and allows Jesse a closer look. He runs his fingers along the edges of his family crest, “Egypt only has one serpent -type God and that is Apophis. His resemblance is more snake than dragon.”

“So they’re Asian.” Jesse’s eyes flick up to Hanzo’s.

“Japanese in origin, though they are reminiscent of the Chinese two-limbed species.”

“You got a mighty fine dragon on you if I recall.” Jesse smiles.

Hanzo’s chest tightens and he looks back at the open folder in his lap. He tries not to linger on the memories of Jesse tracing his tattoo. Soft sunlight and lazy mornings where Hanzo did not feel empty and hollow from their loss. Jesse was good with words and with worship and for those short trysts, Hanzo felt complete without his dragons.

“Yakuza use tattoos as a sign of status.” Hanzo sniffs.

“It’s a big tattoo.” Jesse pokes Fareeha’s bicep with a flirty grin, “Musta been important.”

“At one time.” Hanzo hedges.

At no such time. Hanzo left all of that nonsense behind him.

He waves the photo of the hieroglyphs at Fareeha, “How far away is this tomb?”

Her face scrunches up, “About a 2 hour plane ride? I can make some arrangements for tomorrow.”

“You may contact Reyes.” Hanzo nods, “But I believe we will need to get dressed for this affair tonight.”

“Oh yea.” She winks, “Look at expensive as you can.”

  
  
  


\-------

  
  
  


The underground auction is smaller than Hanzo imagined it would be.

It’s cool in the room, which is a blessing as he’s in a three piece suit and thought he would melt on the walk from car to back door.

Fareeha is ahead of them, long midnight dress reaching her heel encased ankles and an open back showing off the fact that she can and  _ will _ punch you if you approach her. Jesse is at his side, looking far too attractive in black slacks and a sharp red smoking jacket. Gone is his hat and the sun-tanned brown locks are swept back out of his face and off to the side, revealing a diamond stud in his left ear.

Jesse’s hand is hovering at his back, guiding them through the mingling crowd around the bar. A waiter in a mockery of Egyptian garb hovers with a tray of thin glasses of champagne. Jesse reaches out and snags two, handing one to Hanzo with a charming grin.

Fareeha appears at their sides holding a tumblr of brown liquid, “Auction begins in twenty minutes.” Her voice drops low between them, “From what I can gather.” A subtle point of her finger to a balding man in a too-tight tuxedo, “He was the last one to  _ see _ the amulet.”

“Seeing is useless.” Hanzo frowns, “He could have seen it in a picture.”

She takes a sip of her drink, “Better ask him yourself.”

Hanzo peers over at the group of chortling men. They’re all holding what looks to be brandy. He wrinkles his nose and glances at Jesse.

“How decent are you at extracting information?” He asks.

Jesse gives him a toothy smile, “Decent enough. Need me to do some recon?” He nods at the group.

“If you would be so kind.” Hanzo waves a hand nonchalantly, “Retrieve a brandy and join them in conversation. Find out where the amulet was last seen and who has it.”

“Of course, darlin’.” Jesse chugs the rest of his champagne. Hanzo has to glance away from the tanned, tantalizing line of his throat.

Hanzo lingers with Fareeha, eyes sharp as he watches Jesse laugh and joke with the men. It is interesting to watch. They are not regal or refined as some of the patrons are. 

Hanzo speaks to others in a multitude of languages and boasts of his vast collection of artifacts. Though they sit mostly in Overwatch’s vaults or in museums now. The people do not care, they only care that he ‘bought’ them with his multitude of wealth.

The auctioneer announces that it is time and Hanzo reluctantly takes a paddle, as does Fareeha. He leaves a seat open for Jesse, should he choose to join them at any point.

The leather and linen scent of him is the only indicator that he’s taken a seat at Hanzo’s side once the auction takes off. His arm brushes Hanzo’s own, sending a tingle from the point of contact to his groin.

“Got some information once this is over.” Jesse mutters.

“Did you succeed?” Hanzo inquires with a tilt of his head, eyes never leaving the stolen artifacts being depreciated on stage.

Jesse shifts slightly and their arms press together, “With flyin’ colors.”

Hanzo takes a deep breath in through his nose and tries not to look so pleased with himself. Even if the information is small, he will take any win at this point.

He just hopes it has not disappeared for good.

  
  


\------

  
  


The plane ride to Asyut only holds Jesse and Hanzo. Fareeha is still on the clock, so she was unable to join them outside of her division. She did promise to check in with them from time to time, just in case.

“So-.” Jesse crosses a booted foot over a thigh, “These guys are American. Said their head man waltzed right in and demanded to pay for the amulet right then and there.”

Hanzo frowns, “Who?”

“Deadlock, of course.” Jesse rolls his eyes, “They try to have their fingers in everyones pie these days. Even outside of America.”

Hanzo taps his fingers on the armrest of his seat, “I was not aware they operated outside of their countries borders.”

“Not usually.” Jesse confirms, “But guy was able to describe their insignia to me.”

“And who has it now?” Hanzo tries not to grind his teeth.

“A woman.” Jesse pulls a slip of paper from the inner pocket of his leather jacket and holds it out where Hanzo can see.

It’s a business card. Well made, beige cardstock and golden embroidery around a shimmering violet cursive name:  _ Amélie Lacroix. _

Hanzo bites his tongue.

Damn it all.

“I know that look.” Jesse scoffs, “Familiar?”

“She is only the richest woman on the planet.” Hanzo bites out, “How much did she pay for it?”

“Made my head spin.”

Hanzo closes his eyes.

If Lacroix has it, then it is out of his reach. At least until he knows where she hides her bought treasures.

The Lacroix estate has no known address. No one has been to it, nor seen it. Only rumors and whispers of a collection so vast it could belong to a King.

Or a Queen, in this case.

“What’s our next move?” Jesse whispers.

“Nepal.” Hanzo replies, “I will contact Reyes. I want to see this ‘origin’ before we go.”

Jesse takes the photo of the hieroglyphs and stares at it while Hanzo takes out his phone and sends a text to Morrison. 

“What’s in Nepal?” Jesse asks.

“My brother.”

  
  
  


\-------

  
  


“Tell me how an obviously Asian dragon has an origin story in Egypt of all places?” Genji holds the photo Hanzo took as close to his nose as possible.

He’s healthier than the last time Hanzo saw him. There are no dark circles from late nights and drinking binges. His hair is still green, recently dyed by the looks of it and he’s wearing an open robe of the Shambali in bright yellow.

Hanzo feels a phantom ache at the bare skin of his brothers shoulders and arms.

Genji never received his dragon.

“Leave us.” Hanzo murmurs to Jesse.

Jesse tips his hat at them and turns on his heel to exit where they entered. A young monk at the door hovers, “Do you wish for me to depart as well?”

Genji looks up from the picture, “No. Zenyatta knows.”

Hanzo inclines his head, “You told someone?”

“You haven’t?” Genji looks surprised, “McCree doesn’t know?”

Hanzo shakes his head. He has trusted no one with something so personal.

The monk crosses the room and joins Genji in the perusing of the photograph from the tomb. Hanzo watches and waits.

“It is fake.” The monk looks awed.

“Is it?” Genji squints, “Zen, are you sure?”

A melodic laugh, “We have many ruins here. And that tomb is old. Very old.” He lifts a finger and presses it to the surface of the photo, “The etchings with your amulet? Fresh. Weeks old at most.”

“I figured as much.” Hanzo clenches his fist, “Someone is diverting the trail. To keep it cold.”

“Isn’t that what father did for generations?” Genji asks, “To keep the amulet a secret?”

“It was not much of a secret if it was stolen in the first place.” Hanzo counters.

“Indeed.” Zenyatta hums, “Or there was a traitor among your family.”

Hanzo recoils.

Genji nods, however, “That’s possible. I mean, our family wielded a lot of power.” He hands Hanzo the photo, “We were bound to have enemies.”

“But how did they  _ know _ ?” Hanzo hisses, crushing the fake hieroglyphs within his palm, “How could anyone have known that the amulet granted our family actual dragons?”

“It would have had to been someone close to father.” Genji taps his chin.

Zenyatta inclined his head, “If I may -” He sets a hand on Genji’s shoulder. His brother glances over at the monk and nods. Zenyatta smiles serenely, “I was recently in Europe and came across whispers of an amulet of asian origin.” He frowns, “They spoke of its power. Ethereal dragons etched into the pores of skin and soul.” A shake of the head, “But I did not think it yours, as they boasted its origins deep in the bowels of the african jungles.”

Hanzo narrows his eyes, “The amulet was  _ given _ to our family.”

Genji doesn't look convinced, “What if father lied?”

“ _ Lied _ ?” Hanzo snarls, “Father would not lie to us.” He waves a hand angrily, “What use would it be to fill our heads with a story of poverty and gods if it was just a stone carved by a bored shaman in the jungle?”

“Isn’t that where most of your artifacts come from?” Genji asks curiously, “What if it was the story told to our father? And his father? What if our ancestors chose to change the story, so no one would be able to figure out the ritual?”

_ Ritual _ .

Hanzo presses his hands against the bridge of his nose. Of course that makes sense.

Their father was a ruthless leader. A cruel man to all but Genji. The fabricated tale was merely used to please Genji’s vibrant imagination. It was never the original story.

His whole life -

“Did they say where?” Hanzo finally looks up at Zenyatta and Genji.

Zenyatta shakes his head, “I am afraid not.”

Genji steps forward and sets both of his hands on Hanzo’s shoulders, “Let them have it, Hanzo.” His fingers dig into Hanzo’s skin as he squeezes, “We don’t need the dragons.”

Hanzo swallows thickly, “You did not get yours.” He ignores Genji’s painful flinch, “Mine asked me a question, Genji. It was important. It  _ mattered _ . However they were born, whoever brought them to this world, they were  _ ours _ .”

“Not anymore.” Genji whispers, “Let it go.”

“I still have the tattoo.” Hanzo grips Genji’s biceps, “The ink has not faded.”

Genji’s eyes widen, “They are supposed to fade if -.”

“It means there  _ is _ a ritual of succession.” Hanzo shakes his brother, “Whoever has the amulet is going to find its birthplace and transfer the dragons to someone else.” He rips the sleeve of his shirt up, revealing the vibrant blue ink on his arm, “As long as this remains, the amulet has not changed allegiances.”

Genji bites into his bottom lip, “Hanzo. You don’t even know where it is.”

A knock on the temple room door interrupts their words and Jesse peeks his head around the corner. He’s holding a cellphone and wiggles it in Hanzo’s direction.

“A miss Olivia on line one fer you, doll.”

Hanzo releases Genji and beelines for the door. He takes the cellphone from Jesse’s hand and pressed it to his ear, “Sombra.”

“ _ Shimada. _ ” She returns brightly, “ _ Wasn’t sure if you were trusting Jesse with your very important secrets, but I got a hit on your amulet.” _

“Again?” Hanzo asks, “Where?”

“ _ It passed through customs in France.” _ There’s a smile in her voice, “ _ I have at least three tails in France and they followed a Miss Amélie Lacroix all the way to her beautiful, sprawling mansion.” _

Relief floods through him, “Send me the coordinates.”

“ _ I can do you one better. _ ” A few clicks on her end, “ _ I ran a private charter plane by Reyes. There’s a helicopter on the way to your location now. The plane will take you straight to a private airbase forty-two miles from Lacroix’s mansion. _ ”

Hanzo blinks, “That was quick.”

“ _ I’m nothing if not efficient. _ ”

The steady beat of a rotary wing fills the space of the room. Hanzo glances towards the ceiling and Jesse whistles low.

“She’s fast.” He comments.

“Indeed.” Hanzo disconnects and shoves the phone in his back pocket.

He turns to Genji, who looks disgruntled as Zenyatta pushes a strand of vibrant green hair out of his face.

“Do you wish to go?” Zenyatta asks.

“No.” Genji slices his hand through the air, “I don’t want Hanzo to go.”

Hanzo moves forward, “Do you realize what that power could do to the world?” He lowers his voice, “In the wrong hands?”

“Who cares?” Genji hisses, “It isn’t worth you losing your life.”

“Whoa. Whoa.” Jesse cuts between them, “It’s just a damn necklace.” He frowns down at their faces, “Isn’t it?”

“Tell him.” Genji demands.

Hanzo’s throat tightens and he attempts to plead at his brother with his eyes alone, but Genji is having none of it.

“ _ Tell him. _ ” He snaps.

Hanzo sighs, “Come.” He steps away from his brother and wraps a hand around Jesse’s forearm, “We have a plane to catch.”

  
  
  


\--------

  
  
  


“You going to tell me what’s eatin’ you or we gonna take this whole trip in silence?” Jesse has his feet kicked up on a couch across from Hanzo’s makeshift desk.

His hat is hanging off the edge of an empty seat and his boots are propped up at the end of the couch. There’s a bottle of water on the floor beneath his elbow. He’s looking over at Hanzo with a thousand questions in his gaze, none of which Hanzo wants to answer.

But he needs to.

He sets his elbows down on the journals and maps on the table-top and drops his forehead into the palms of his hands. A sigh escapes him next, heavy and worn from the passing days of misleads and missteps.

“When I was a boy -.” Hanzo begins, “My father told us we were to inherit dragons when we came of age.”

A scoff, “What, like your tattoo?”

“Not exactly.” Hanzo rubs his hands down to his chin and focuses his gaze on Jesse’s bewildered expression, “When I turned 10 I had a dream. Two dragons came before me and asked a question. I answered it, even though I had no idea to what it pertained and when I woke -.” He drops his arm and slowly rolls up the cuffed sleeve to reveal the tattoo Jesse is intimately familiar with, “This was inked into my skin.”

Jesse sits up a little, “Yer talkin’ like -.”

“They are real?” Hanzo rolls the sleeve down, “I thought it was a joke too. My father told Genji the same story every night before bed and Genji adored it. Worshiped the tale and dreamed of having his own dragon someday.” He swallows painfully, “I called him foolish. Told my father he was too fanciful. There was no reason to believe tall tales to defend a piece of jewelry.”

How cruel he had been. To Genji, to his father, even to his mother; who spoke so fondly of Sojiro’s dragons.

Hanzo did not believe in magic.

Up until the night he came face to face with his destiny.

“Artifacts ain’t magic, Hanzo.” Jesse mutters, “That’s not possible.”

“Do I look like a man who would believe in magic, Jesse?” Hanzo leans forward, “Would I tell you this unless I was absolutely sure?”

Jesse’s feet hit the ground and he drops his arms over his thighs, “Doll, I’ve seen a lot of crazy things in my life but -.” He shakes his head, “Dragon’s ain’t real.”

Hanzo spreads his hands out over the maps, the useless notes he’s taken over the last twenty years. It’s all lies. All fabrications of the truths his father filled his head with.

“Fine.” He takes a steady breath, “But that amulet is a family heirloom and belongs to my brother and I.” He clears the desk and neaty arranges everything inside his backpack, “I will take it back.”

A long, loaded pause, “Is Genji right?” Jesse asks, “Do you need to let this go?”

Hanzo snarls, “I will not let this go.” The zipper sticks on the stop of his pack, he yanks at it furiously until a warm, tanned hand covers the top of his own.

“Hanzo.” Jesse’s eyes are brown and soft and right in front of him, “It’s just a story. Whatever it was, it was just a dream.”

“It was not a dream.” Hanzo hisses, “I did not wake up one morning at ten years of age and decide to get a  _ tattoo _ .”

“Yer letting this amulet get in the way of yer job.” Jesse whispers, “Deadlock, a  _ Lacroix _ ? These people are dangerous business and they’re armed. Guns against a bow ain’t much of a fight.”

Hanzo yanks his hand out of Jesse’s grip. Ignores the heat that travels up his arm and settles longingly at the base of his heart, “You underestimate my bow.” He stands up swiftly and Jesse lets out a curse and follows.

“Hanzo -.”

Hanzo dances out of his grasp and points a finger at him, “I am not asking you to believe in magic, Jesse.” He puffs out his chest, “I am asking you to believe in me. I  _ will  _ return that amulet to my family. I  _ will _ find out who killed my father. I  _ will  _ make sure Genji gets the dragons he’s dreamed of since he was five.” He swings the pack until it lands in a chair, “You can join me or we can part ways at our next stop.”

Jesse crosses the space between them. Hanzo’s heart throbs within his chest as wide palms smooth over his shoulders and down to cup his elbows. He smells of leather and the incense from the Shambali temple. Hanzo’s traitorous heart shivers and his eyes drift up to meet Jesse’s own.

“I told you I’d listen.” Jesse murmurs, “You said if I wanted to come with you, all I had to do was listen to ya.” His eyes fall to Hanzo’s mouth and it sends a slow curl of heat straight to his gut, “Well, this is me listenin’. I ain’t going anywhere, doll. You lead the way. I follow.”

Do not.

_ Do  _ **_not_ ** _ say it again. _

The fingers on Jesse’s flesh hand tucks a stray strand of Hanzo’s hair out of his face. He’s so close and Hanzo is so,  _ so _ -, “I’d follow you anywhere, Hanzo.”

Hanzo practically drags him down into a kiss. It’s brutal and harsh, a clashing of lips and an intrusion of tongues that tangle like long lost friends. Jesse lets out a soft little moan and his hands curl at the base of Hanzo’s skull.

He is lost.

Lost to the tidal wave of Jesse’s warmth as that barrel chest brushes up against his own. Lost to the kiss, so familiar and yet only a broken memory until this moment. Jesse tastes the same, smells the same, feels the same as he walks Hanzo backwards until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the couch.

He sits down, loathing the parting of their lips, but feeling no shame as he curls his fingers into Jesse’s shirt and yanks him down.

Jesse falls into his lap eagerly as their mouths connect once more. His hands card through the locks on the top of Hanzo’s head, nails scraping down the sensitive flesh of his neck, grappling for a hold as he devours Hanzo’s kiss.

He’s hard in no time at all and he aches as Jesse’s hips surge forward to roll against his own. There is an answering hardness between Jesse’s legs and it reminds him of all the times they’ve done this. All the wind downs after long excavations, where Hanzo would drag Jesse to his room and they would lavish each other in attention and sex until another assignment drew Hanzo away.

Every whispered word against his mouth echoes in his head.

Jesse repeats them now, into the kiss, down the curve of his jawline and against the skin of his neck. They are heady, beautiful words that cloud Hanzo’s mind, his judgment, the very choice he made when he decided to leave Jesse’s behind.

But how could he resist?

Jesse’s mouth, the heat of his body, the strangled, throaty moans as their hips surge against one another. All of these things Hanzo’s dreamed about,  _ craved _ alone in his bed, hating himself for thinking Jesse was not worth his time. That Jesse was a hindrance to his goals.

When all Jesse wants is to follow Hanzo.

Jesse nibbles at his collarbone as he unbuttons Hanzo’s shirt with practiced ease. He doesn’t stop the motion of his hips and Hanzo is sure they’ll finish like this. Too desperate for one another to finish undressing. Too eager to feel that burning, bright pleasure just on the edge of the horizon.

It’s been so  _ long _ -

“Darlin’-.” Jesse drags his mouth, wet and slick, back to Hanzo’s and bites into his bottom lip. His cock digs into Hanzo’s stomach, hard and hot and begging for Hanzo’s touch, “Darlin’ I need you to touch me.”

And so Hanzo does.

He fumbles with Jesse’s pants, ripping them open and pulling that straining cock free. It jerks in his hand and Jesse’s forehead drops to his shoulder with a long, drawn out moan. Jesse’s hips jerk, dick sliding against Hanzo’s palm, pre-cum oozing from the tip.

Hanzo chuckles and drags his lips along Jesse’s neck to his ear, “Did you miss my touch, Jesse?” Jesse’s mouth drops open and he pants against Hanzo’s skin, “It has been a long while. Have you dreamt of this?”

Jesse’s hips roll and Hanzo wraps the entirety of his hand around Jesse’s cock, effectively giving it a warm sheath to fuck.

“Every night -.” Jesse gasps, “Broke my damn heart, you did -.” Hanzo tightens his grip, twisting at the head and sending Jesse’s back arching painfully, “Still wanted you. Wanted you inside, thought about you every time I found someone else to ease the ache.”

“Did it work?” Hanzo hates the surge of jealousy within his chest, “Did they help?”

“No.” Jesse admits, voice pained, “Not one damn bit.”

_ Good _ , Hanzo seethes angrily,  _ you are mine. _

But Jesse does not need to know that.

He allows Jesse to fuck his fist, dick thick and wet and squelching in the grip of Hanzo’s fingers. It’s dirty and too hot and Jesse’s mouth is slick against his shoulder, but he would not trade the burning heat, the bright longing in his chest, for anything.

“H-Hanzo -.” Jesse warns, hips losing their rhythm, “I’m - sugar - oh  _ h-hell _ -.”

“Come for me, Jesse.” Hanzo murmurs.

Jesse’s teeth sinks into the skin of Hanzo’s shoulder and he lets out a shuddering, painful cry. It wracks his entire body, dick pulsing, cum coating Hanzo’s hand and the strip of naked chest Jesse revealed earlier.

A warm rush of affection nearly overpowers the arousal between his legs as Jesse slumps against him with a gorgeous, deep laugh.

“Oh I missed the mouth on you, darlin’.” Jesse pushes back weakly as Hanzo releases his dick. He looks half-drunk from the pleasure.

“Mm and you may have my mouth later. For now -.” Hanzo raises cum-covered fingers and presses them against Jesse’s bottom lip, “I wish for yours.”

Jesse grins, “Yer wish is my command, darlin’.”

  
  
  
  


\-------

  
  
  


He should not have crossed that line.

Hanzo knows this. He will accept the consequences that come with allowing Jesse McCree back into his bed. Even though said bed is only a private, full-sized cot in the back of the plane, it is enough to see Jesse snoring soundly between the sheets.

It is a heartwarming sight.

Many times, Jesse has joined him on his jobs and they had fallen into bed together. Sticky jungle nights and huddling to keep warm with cold kisses in the subzero temperatures of snow-capped mountain ranges.

Hanzo stares over at him as he dresses for the descent of the plane. They do not have a lot of time between landing and finding Lacroix’s mansion. There is no telling where she has eyes and there is a high chance she knew she was followed.

The faster they land and find the amulet, the closer they are to holding his family legacy in the palm of his hands once more.

He walks to the side of the bed and sets a palm to the scruff of Jesse’s cheek, “Wake up, Jesse. We are landing soon.”

“Wassit?” Jesse’s eyes crack open, “Already?”

“Yes.” Hanzo thumbs over the rise of his cheekbone, “You had no more clean shirts. I have laid out one of my own for you.”

A small, warm smile turns up at him, “Yer too good to me, Hanzo.”

“Hm.” Hanzo can not stop a smile of his own. Foolish, he knows, but there is no use in denying his heart what it has already soaked in.

Jesse’s phone vibrates to life on the floor near his suitcase. The man grumbles and crawls out of the bed, peering down at the screen, “Aw hell. It’s my ma. Gimme a sec, doll?”

Hanzo buttons up the collar of his shirt, “Of course. We’ll be landing in about five minutes. Meet me at the front of the plane when you are done.”

“Course.” Jesse grins, swiping across the screen of his phone, “Hiya ma.”

Hanzo drifts towards the cockpit, gathering his pack and phone from where it was charging on the table-top earlier in the evening. He sees no messages from Sombra or Reyes, so he deems everything to be in the clear for now.

A hostess peeks her head through the front curtain, “Wheels touching down in one minute, Mr. Shimada.”

He nods curtly and pats down his chest to make sure everything is in its place, then glances over where Stormbow is dismantled and resting in her case.

He should not need her -

He shakes his head.

No. He  _ will _ not need her.

  
  


\------

  
  
  


A tinted car drops them at the edge of a perfectly manicured treeline. It stretches as far as the eye can see in either direction and plunges into darkness beyond the brush. Wind wheezes through the limbs above, cracking branches and sending leaves fluttering down around them.

Jesse lifts an eyebrow and holds his hat to the top of his head so the wind doesn’t take it, “Sure we don’t need weapons?”

Hanzo pushes through the brush, “Sure enough.”

“Oh.” Jesse grunts, “That’s comforting.”

“She is a collector. Not a gang member.” Hanzo scoffs, retrieving a flashlight from his pack and flicking it on.

The ground is already growing wet with the evening dew. Their boots crunch over leaves and sticks as they make their way through the labyrinth of trees. It’s silent, eerily so. Hanzo keeps his stance loose, ready to adjust should there be any sort of alarm system amongst the trees.

They walk for a good ten minutes and Jesse is squinting at his phone, trying to find cell service, when Hanzo spots the manors lights. They flicker like candles atop a massive stone wall around the castle-like structure of the house.

A large, black iron gate sits in the center and sure enough Hanzo spots an electronic system attached to a pole in the ground. A keycode, most likely.

“How we gettin’ in?” Jesse whispers.

Hanzo scans the length of the wall. He doesn’t spot any visible cameras, no trip wires, no muted lasers for motion.

It seems Miss Lacroix isn’t very worried about intruders on her property.

Rightfully so, as it took some serious effort for Sombra to find this area in the first place. Pure dumb luck and a France customs officer sitting in Gabriel Reyes’ pocket.

“We scale the wall.” Hanzo says.

Jesse sends him an astonished look, “Wait -wha -.”

Hanzo darts across the wet grass, as far from the front gate as he can. He scales the wall, biceps straining as he hefts his body weight over the top. When he’s situated, he glances down at Jesse, who is looking up at him in shock.

“Hanzo. I ain’t as spry as you are.” A nervous laugh.

Hanzo chuckles, heart pounding from the climb. He leans forward on his front and dangles one hand on Jesse’s side of the wall, while getting a firm grip with the other.

Jesse backtracks a little, frowning, “I don’t think this is going to work.”

Hanzo opens his palm, “Do you trust me?”

Jesse doesn’t hesitate, “With my life, darlin’.”

“Then jump to me.” Hanzo insists.

Jesse takes a running leap and scales the wall, flesh hand connecting with Hanzo’s. His boots scrape off crumbling rock as Hanzo lifts him to the top and doesn’t let go until Jesse has a leg swung over the edge.

Hanzo glances down at the yard before them. Rose bushes and carefully manicured grass. A stone fountain sits in the center of a circle drive, water flowing from the vase of a woman pouring it into the intricate pools below.

“This place is amazing.” Jesse breathes.

It is, Hanzo can agree. He can only imagine what they will find inside. If Lacroix is as avid a collector as the underground world boasts, then she will have a vast amount of artifacts all over her estate.

“Do you have a plan?” Jesse asks as they hit the ground on the other side of the wall.

“Not at all.” Hanzo admits skirting the edge of a rose bush and scanning the yard for security lights, cameras, maybe a dog.

“I don’t remember you ever being this ill prepared.” Jesse snickers as they sneak through the garden.

Hanzo finds the edge of the castle and searches for a servants entrance. He does not spot one, but he can hear Jesse trying at one of the windows low enough for them to reach.

He slaps Jesse’s arm, “Do not make noise.”

“I don’t even think she’s home, besides I’m the expert in breaking and entering.” Jesse prys at the window some more, “Let’s just get in, get the amulet and get gone.”

Hanzo can not deny him that.

The window gives and Jesse slides it up as far as it will go. He climbs in first, then reaches back outside the window to help Hanzo through.

It’s a parlor room, from what Hanzo can make out using the limited moonlight from outside the window. A handful of smoking chairs, all rich maroon leather and intricate carved wood armrests, and a rug that no doubt cost a small fortune.

Only a few artifacts line the shelves. Hanzo doubts she even used this room to entertain guests, so only the mediocre would make the cut.

He runs his fingers over a cracked vase, admiring the calligraphy and then dating it in his head while Jesse opens the door.

A low amount of light spills into the room as Jesse opens it inward, “Coast is clear.” He mutters, waving a hand for Hanzo to follow.

Hanzo sticks to his back as they move along the hall. Paintings that do not even have copies in famous museums line the walls on either side of them. Some are in tatters, some restored to their former glory.

He is suitably impressed.

“Where would she keep it?” Jesse asks.

“As close to her person as possible.” Hanzo whispers, “If she truly knows its power, then she will have locked it somewhere.”

“So a bedroom?” Jesse nods and peers around another corner. When he deems it safe to move, he taps Hanzo’s arm and they continue along the gorgeous halls of the house.

Lacroix does not skimp on decor or cleanliness. Everything is in its place and all objects dusted to perfection. The great hall lingers beneath them as they cross a set of side rooms. It opens to a split staircase covered in rich red carpet. The massive, framed portrait of a couple sits above the split.

“I imagine that’s the lady herself.” Jesse nods towards the beautiful woman in the photo. The man is just as gorgeous and grinning wide for the painter.

“I recognize the artist.” Hanzo murmurs, “She must have paid him a pretty sum.”

“Looks like she has the cash to spare.” Jesse takes a right.

Hanzo glances behind them as the portrait of the couple disappears. Jesse’s footsteps are muffled by the long rug down the hallway. His heart beat skitters and the hairs on the back of his neck stands up.

Jesse opens a door near the end of the hall and Hanzo follows, even as the uneasiness sweeps low in his belly.

The room is modest, with a four poster bed near a giant window and an armchair in front of a fireplace. A faux bear skin rug rests at the foot of the bed.

“Aha.” Jesse points at a small wall safe to the left of the bed, “You were right.” He walks over to it and frowns at the locking mechanism, “Shouldn’t be too hard to crack. Give me a second.”

Hanzo watches him, the warning bell in his head too loud for him to hear anything else.

“This is too easy.” He eyes Jesse’s deft fingers as they spin the knob on the safe.

“Yea. Means she’s not home.” Jesse insists, “I told ya.” A click from the door and a grinding of metal against metal.

“No.” Hanzo lifts his eyes to the back of Jesse’s head, “This is too easy.” He waves between them, “No cameras? No motion detection in the house. You -.”

His chest tightens, “Jesse.”

Jesse doesn’t look up from where the safe is open. The Dragon’s Heart hangs from a hook at the top, jade dragons and the sapphire center glistening in the moonlight.

“How did you know where you were going?”

Jesse lets out a sigh and reaches into the safe. His fingers curl around Hanzo’s family birthright. His father’s legacy. His  _ family's _ history.

Something sharp and brutal spears though Hanzo’s chest as Jesse faces him. There’s a look of absolute exhaustion on his bearded features, but also a sadness that Hanzo knows all too well. It’s the same look Jesse gave to him when Hanzo said they could not continue to see one another.

It also speaks volumes of his betrayal.

The click of a hammer at the back of his head sends his pulse racing.

“Good job, McCree.” A hand, gnarled and familiar, appears in Hanzo’s peripheral vision.

He sees that hand in his dreams. Holding his family amulet, murdering his father -

Jesse tosses it across the room and the hand catches it by the string. It dangles in Hanzo’s field of vision and the gun at the back of his head digs in deeper.

“I told you he’d lead us right to it.” Jesse scoffs, “You doubted me.”

Hanzo closes his eyes.

_ Of course. _

The jungle. The convenient set up at the bar. His insistence to join Hanzo on this mission. Every question he asked Hanzo. The phone call on the plane.

All leading up to this moment.

“Don’t look so sad, dollface.” Jesse grins, “It’s just business.”

“Yes.” Hanzo sends him a withering look, “And you belong to the highest bidder.”

“I was actually a little skeptical.” The gun taps against his skull, “Was afraid your affection for this fella was going to get the best of you.”

“Affection?” Jesse sneers, “Ain’t no affection anymore.”

Hanzo chooses to ignore that. He shifts his shoulders, “Deadlock, I presume?”

“And don’t you forget it.” The gnarled hand retreats and a shuffling of fabric tells Hanzo the amulet has been tucked away.

Another click and he instantly regrets not bringing his weapons with him.

“Hey now.” Jesse steps forward, concern destroying the haughty lines on his face, “Miss Lacroix will be mighty pissed if you leave blood on her floor.”

“What did I tell you about letting your feelings for him get in the way?” A snarl and the gun presses up at the base of his skull, “He dies. Here and now. I don’t need no Shimada’s tryin’ to take  _ my  _ amulet.”

“Whatever you are after -.” Hanzo turns his head, eyes narrowed as the old, withered man responsible for his family’s destruction, “You are not worthy to wield those dragons.”

“There aren’t any goddamn dragons.” Jesse throws out a hand, “It’s a piece of jewelry.”

“You shut the hell up.” The Deadlock leader points another gun at Jesse, “You told me he was ranting and raving about the dragons being real. You told me his brother never got his.”

Another wave of betrayal whips through him. He feels sick.

“You dragged my brother into this?” He snarls at Jesse.

Jesse holds up his hands, “I didn’t give no name -.”

“My  _ brother _ has no part in this!” Hanzo hisses, spinning around and kneeing the old man in the crotch.

A gun goes off and Hanzo hisses as a bullet grazes his shoulder and he hits the ground with a painful thud. Jesse shouts his name as the old man screams for his lackies to kill Hanzo.

He rushes for the window and clears it in one leap.

Glass shatters around him and the hard, wet solidity of the earth nearly shatters his knees. He doesn’t stop running. Guns go off behind him, hitting the bushes, the dirt at his feet. The wall looms before him and he scales it once more, adrenaline and pain doing the work for his this time.

The tinted car is waiting for him at the edge of the forest.

He hopes it’s meant for him and he opens the door and slams it behind him.

“Take me to the airport. Now.” He recognizes the driver as the one Sombra hired, “Get us out of here.”

The driver nods once and slams his foot on the gas pedal.

Hanzo does not even bother looking behind them to see if Deadlock was in pursuit. He leans back into the seat and puts his hands over his face.

Fool.

He was a fool.

 

 

 

 


	3. Part Three

 

 

 

**Part Three**

  
  
  


 

 

 

Hanzo spends most of the plane ride berating himself. Avoiding the private rooms in the back, where he spent the better part of the evening before with Jesse beneath him. Wondering what the hell possessed him to allow Jesse back into his life.

He cut ties for a  _ reason _ .

He knew Jesse held no loyalty to Reyes or any organization who contracted out to him. He certainly knew Jesse had no loyalty to Hanzo.

It was one of the reasons  _ why _ Hanzo cut things off.

He did not need to distance himself. He did not need to  _ avoid _ falling in love with the charming, easy-going explorer just passing through.

He already  _ was  _ in love with him.

And was that not the problem?

Is that not what clouded his judgment when Jesse flashed him that smile and asked to tag along on Hanzo’s quest?

The very feeling he tried to extinguish got the best of him, just like he knew it would. Just like he predicted when he stood in front of Jesse and told him it was over.

He knew that if Jesse ever crossed his path again. If he ever gave Hanzo that look and said the words needed to break Hanzo’s resolve - well -

They already crossed that bridge, hadn’t they?

And now Hanzo is paying the price.

His phone vibrates at his elbow and the papers sitting atop it shakes with the force. He brushes away the documents and peers down at the unfamiliar number on his screen. It could be Sombra, so he slides the green bar.

“Shimada.”

“ _ Good. He answered. _ ” Reyes’ voice crackles to life on the other end. Sombra’s voice pipes in from somewhere around him, ‘ _ I told you he would _ .’

“I am not returning to headquarters.” Hanzo’s brow furrows.

“ _ Of course not. _ ” Reyes scoffs, “ _ You’re meeting us for a refuel in Morocco and then we’re heading to _ -” A shuffle, “ _ Where did you say it was _ ?”

Hanzo pinches at the bridge of his nose, “I can do this on my own.”

“ _ Thing is, Shimada. You don’t have to _ .” Reyes snaps, “ _ Sombra said Jesse is wearing your clothes, right _ ?”

He flushes, “That is  _ not _ her business.”

“ _ Well, lucky for you _ -.” Sombra takes the phone now, “ _ I have a tracking device in all of our major players clothes. It’s in the tag _ .”

Hanzo wants to protest that having a device on his person at all times is a monumental invasion of his personal space. However, given the circumstances and how short on time they could be if Deadlock already knows the location of the amulets origin, he does not have the luxury to be prissy.

“Where are they now?” He asks, “Jesse was hired by them. I doubt he will remain with them the entire way.”

“ _ They’re not in Africa _ .” There’s a smirk in Sombra’s voice, “ _ You were right about one thing. The dragons are of asian origin _ .”

Hanzo’s shoulder slump forward in relief, “They are in Japan.”

“ _ They’re about twelve hours out and we’re wasting valuable time _ .” Sombra informs, “ _ We’re about to land in Morocco _ .”

“I will see you there.” Hanzo feels the string in his chest loosen.

An hour later Reyes, Jack, and Sombra climb into the passenger section of the plane with him. They’re all carrying packs, climbing gear. Sombra has a rolling cart; no doubt carrying all of her various tech equipment.

Hanzo rises to his feet, “Thank -.”

“Thank us after.” Reyes waves a hand at him, “What I need you to do right now is gather everything you have about your father’s story. We’re dropping into this pretty much blind.”

“Isn’t that how we always did it?” Jack grins as he drops into a chair and spins it around to face them, “We were young once, you know.”

“We still are.” Reyes smirks, pinching Jack’s ear.

Jack jerks out of the hold and slaps his hand away, “What have you got for us?”

Hanzo settles back into his seat and the plane lurches back to life around them. Sombra is already setting her station up at another table, bottom lip caught between her teeth and concentrating on not dropping anything as they gain traction on the tarmac.

Hanzo brings his gaze back to Reyes and Morrison, who are both seated now.

“I only know the fairy tale.” Hanzo sighs, rubbing at his chin, “There were two brothers. Both Dragons. The North and the South wind. According to my father, they were worshiped as Gods on the ground and one day, they dropped from the sky and joined the people in festival.”

He spends the better part of the trip retelling his father’s bedtime story. From the Dragon’s beginning, to the morning he woke without his dragon.

“Dragon.” Sombra peers around her computer, “You’re asking us to believe that you wielded an actual dragon.”

“I ask nothing.” Hanzo waves his hand dismissively.

“But if they reach this ritual chamber -.” Jack spreads his palms, “They’ll strip you of the dragon completely?”

“You haven’t had the amulet in twenty years.” Reyes frowns, “How come the tattoo is still there?”

“Their allegiance is still to the Shimada family.” Hanzo rubs at the blue ink along his arm. Even this long without them, he can still remember what they felt like beneath his skin, “However, since we don’t hold the amulet, the dragons seem to -.” He pauses, “Retreat. It is as if they know we no longer hold control.”

“They’re waiting.” Jack breathes.

“That is what I think as well.”

It is also what he fears most.

“Deadlock can not have this power.” Hanzo insists, “If that  _ man _ performs the ritual and rips them from us; it could mean destruction.”

“You think they’ll actually use them to what -.” Reyes barks out a laugh, “Take over the world? What are they, cheesy super villains?” Jack elbows him in the bicep.

“To start war.” Hanzo snaps, “The dragons have always been used by the Shimada.”

“Crime lords.” Reyes points at him.

“The Japanese Yakuza pride themselves on control. We have rules.” Hanzo informs, “We do not dole out justice just because we can. It comes at a price. Every time.”

Reyes lifts his hands, “Okay. So how are we handling this?”

“I -.” Hanzo lifts his chin, “Will be going in alone.”

Reyes narrows his eyes and leans forward, obviously about to protest that, but Jack slaps a hand against his chest, “ _ We _ aren’t supposed to be here.” He nods at Hanzo, “We’ll hold down the fort and equip you from here.”

Sombra looks up again, “I’ll be with you the entire way.”

Hanzo has to admit he feels better with them on board. Even as they finish out the exhausting plane ride and Jack and Reyes bicker over climbing gears and Sombra tells both of them to keep quiet. He is glad for the distraction.

He casts his gaze to the back room, knowing he should not linger on his feelings.

No amount of betrayal has ever seemed to dim them. His heart is just as full of Jesse as it has been for years. As it will always be full, he must resign himself to a future that does not include Jesse McCree in it.

  
  


\-----------

  
  


Sure enough, Jesse stays with Deadlock the entire way.

When Sombra notifies the three of them that Deadlock touched down in Hokkaido, she’s happy to note that Jesse is still among them.

Hanzo tries not to think about why Jesse is still wearing his shirt.

“You going to be able to use your bow with that?” Reyes points at Hanzo’s bandaged arm and the fresh blood leaking through.

He frowns at it, “It is just a graze.”

“Does it need stitches?” Reyes lifts an eyebrow.

“Perhaps after.” Hanzo smirks as he reassembles Stormbow in his seat. She clicks into place perfectly and he plucks at her string to ensure it won’t snap.

“You remind me of Jack when he was younger.” Reyes grins, “Broke his wrist on a climb up this cliffside. Slippery rock and too much extra rope. He didn’t want to go back.” There’s a fond, amused look that flashes across his bearded features as he packs up Hanzo’s gear.

“Why were you on the side of a cliff?” Hanzo asks.

A laugh, “There was a rumor that the islanders ancestors buried their dead in cliffside caves. To keep predators away and hoping the salt wind would preserve the flesh.”

“Did you find it?” Hanzo lays his bow across his lap.

“That and more.” Reyes replies.

He moves the gear pack across the floor so it rests at Hanzo’s booted feet. Then he stands and joins Jack at the front of the cabin. They’re chatting with the pilot, so Hanzo glances at his phone.

Part of him wishes to call Genji, but he doubts his brother wants to hear anything Hanzo has to say. Genji said his peace before Hanzo left the monastery.

“Your family is unnecessarily complicated.” Sombra sighs from across the cabin.

Hanzo hums, “I already knew that.”

“No. Seriously.” She waves a hand at her computer screen, “There are hundreds of rumors on the amulet. Blurry, crap pictures and bullshit stories.”

“Apparently, my ancestors thought it better to keep the true origin hidden.”

“Fat lotta good that does for you now.” She disappears back behind the screen, “You’re ass out.”

“What I want to know is how Deadlock has the location.” Hanzo frowns at the back of his inked hand, “How do  _ they _ know, but my brother and I have no clue?”

“I have a theory.” Jack makes his way over to them again. Reyes remains in the cockpit.

“Spill oh great leader.” Sombra mutters.

“You mentioned Lacroix had the amulet in her home?” Jack motions at Hanzo.

Hanzo nods in affirmation.

“We’ve been keeping tabs on her recently.” Jack admits slowly, “Because we think she has ties with Talon.”

A strangled cough comes from Sombra’s direction, “Are you kidding?”

It doesn’t make sense, if an underground crime syndicate like Talon wanted the dragons power for themselves, why would they sell the location to Deadlock? Unless -

Hanzo lifts his eyes to Jack and Sombra, “They are hoping Deadlock will show them how to handle the ritual. In case it is dangerous to perform.”

Jack points at him, “My thoughts exactly.”

Hanzo hums, “It is smart.”

But they will all fail in the end.

  
  


\-----------

  
  


Hanzo is not unfamiliar with the historical landmarks of his home country. He had to start somewhere, after all.

Many a year he spent traveling the length of the island, uncovering hidden caches and bringing forth new history for locals to appreciate. It was, for a short time in his youth, the only way to separate himself from the murder of his entire clan.

He did not care that the Shimada name held no more weight. Nor did he care that half of his assets were taken in the destruction of the main estate.

He only cared that his family had been taken so cruelly. His father. His mother. Cousins, grandparents.

All gone in one night.

“ _ Looks like we found them _ .” Sombra chimes in through his earpiece.

Hanzo melds himself against a tree as to not be spotted by the camp of mercenaries in the clearing ahead.

He is sticky from the humidity of the forest, his feet ache from the long, inclined walk up the mountainside. The pack Reyes gave to him is laden with rope, a pick axe, and various tools in case he needs to break through rock. His bow sits heavy across his chest, quiver strapped beneath the bag on his back.

He is ready for whatever lies ahead.

“Where the hell is the boss?” One of the mercs shouts.

“In his tent -.” Another waves to a large tent near the edge of the camp, “With McCree.”

Hanzo slinks through the trees and noting that none of the guards are standing near the perimeter. They don’t seem to be too concerned with being followed.

When he arrives at the tent, he can already hear a heated argument from within.

“He shoulda been dead the moment he told you where it would be.” The boss, Hanzo presumes with a sneer.

“Oh yea. That woulda gone over well. You wanna be the one to explain to Overwatch how their lead archaeologist was murdered?” Jesse snaps.

“That ain’t my problem, boy. This amulet -” Hanzo can see him shaking it through the shadows of the fabric, “Is Deadlocks ticket to the big leagues. Talon won’t have shit on us. Neither will Overwatch.”

Jesse lets out a huff of air, “I don’t think you need to be messin’ around with either of them.”

“I don’t pay you to give me advice, McCree.” A pointed finger, “All I need you to do is get us through this hellishly humid forest and to the ritual chamber.”

“If they damn thing is even still standing.” Jesse hisses, arm moving wildly, “Which is why we needed Hanzo to trust us the entire way here!”

“And let your dick get the best of you again?” A scoff, “I ain’t stupid, boy. You’ve always been a fool when it came to Shimada.”

“I’m not a fool anymore.” Jesse grinds out, “I did what you asked. Life debt repaid you ancient cocksucker.”

“It isn’t paid until those dragons belong to  _ me _ .”

Hanzo retreats into the limbs of an old tree. He can still see the encampment, but hopefully they will not be able to hear or see him.

He presses a finger to his ear, “Sombra?”

“ _ At your service _ .” She sings, “ _ Word _ ?”

“They are close. The ritual chamber can not be more than a mile around me. There is a chance they’ve sent people out to search for it.” Hanzo watches the men mingle below. Spots Jesse as he strolls across the clearing and kicks one of the mercs out of his chair.

“ _ I’ve got a drone inbound. _ ” She replies after a moment, “ _ Lookin’ like they have three groups out. Heat signatures of about four to six in each group _ .”

“I do not suppose you could find the actual chamber without them?” Hanzo ventures.

“ _ I’m good, but I’m not that good. _ ” She laughs.

He only has to wait an hour before someone waves a radio in the air and shouts that the chamber was found.

He does not have time to confirm with Sombra, because the camp is already moving east.

He keeps as far as he can without losing sight of the mass of armed men walking through the trees. Jesse and the old, withered leader stand at the forefront of the group. They lead Hanzo directly to a small, modest temple carved into the side of a rocky mass.

His family crest sits at the top of a carved dragon archway, weathered, crumbling. Rotted wood and broken glass litter the ground around it.

“Caved in.” Jesse pushes a boot against the broken entrance.

Hanzo waits.

Watches.

Does not contact Sombra. Does not make a sound as the sun moves over the middle of the sky and dips to the west.

He waits until the rubble is clear and the main group disappears into the dark of the cave to strike.

He pulls his bow and knocks an arrow.

Five men lingering on the outer perimeter go down first. They make nothing but soft, strangled wheezes as Hanzo’s arrows pierce their throats.

Next come the handful setting up a temporary station outside of the ruins. They are less alert, easy targets to pick off as soon as one turns their back.

He slips through the entrance and darkness engulfs him like a solid mass. He can not see anything. Not even the hand in front of his own face.

He reaches into the side pocket of his pack and feels for a glowstick. He sends a silent thank you to Reyes as he cracks it open and shakes until a soft, orange light fills the spot he occupies.

It is -

_ Breathtaking _ .

The hall where he stands is mostly rock and rubble from the cave in, but the carvings in the wall, the bright, vibrant paint on them is beyond imagination.

Hanzo runs his fingers along the surface, over cracked writing and faded paint on ancient faces. It is cool to the touch and tells a story of the first.

A pair of brothers dying in a cave. Arms stretched out towards a beautiful set of jade dragons on an altar of bone and dirt. Twins intertwined and a single one standing side by side.

‘Save us.’ The oldest brother begged.

‘We can only save one.’ The Twins spoke.

‘Then save my brother.’ Hanzo traces the Kanji of the youngest brother, ‘If you must take one of us, take me instead.’

‘No.’ The oldest, ‘Please -.’

The paint is faded, nearly gone from age and water damage. Hanzo pauses and moves the glow stick to the next frame.

The oldest hunched over the Dragon’s Heart, crying over his brothers lifeless body.

‘Our Hearts are yours.’ The Dragon’s say, ‘Your dedication to one anothers safety pleases us.’

‘At what cost?’ The brother cries.

‘Power.’ They reply, ‘Wield us. Change the world. Make his life worth a thousand of your own. But be warned: Every generation will obtain us. Only the worthy shall command us. All who use us for selfish gain will perish in bone and flame.’

The rest of the wall is gone. The story lost forever.

Hanzo curses and slams his fist against the stone.

Voices carry through the musty cavern.

Hanzo pushes forward through the darkness until he comes to a room filled with artificial light. The Deadlock leader stands with Jesse behind him and a handful of mercs lingering in awe at the beautiful artifacts scattered through the temple.

There is a long, open gap in the floor between the altar and Deadlock.

The jade dragons from the story still sit in a pile of bone and dirt. Time has not touched them. No weather or wear rubs at the jewels or the jade.

Hanzo’s arm tingles and he rubs at it, heart thumping wildly.

He spots a landing near the top and climbs as quietly as he can.

Once he’s reached his perch, Jesse speaks up, “There’s only a place to hang it.” He points to a rusted metal hook in the wall above the dragons, “This is a waste of yer time.”

The old man shoves him out of the way, “Make me a bridge. Those dragons will be mine.” A few of the mercs hurry forward with planks of wood from around the temple. None are long enough to make the gap.

“Looks like someone’s gonna have to jump.” The leader points a gun at Jesse’s head.

Hanzo feels his face contort into a snarl. Jesse doesn’t look all the surprised, however. He shoves his hands into his pockets, “Not happenin’.”

The click of the hammer, “I won’t ask you twice, McCree.”

“I am not crossing a death chasm, to return that hunk of fake jewelry to a hook on a wall.” Jesse wiggles a finger at the string hanging out of the leaders pocket.

“Fake?” The old man yanks the heart from his pocket and shakes it in Jesse’s direction, “This is the key to controlling the world!”

“Yer a mad man with a deathwish.” Jesse spits.

Hanzo pulls the rope from his pack and ties it to the end of a broad arrow. He tugs at the knot twice, knocks it back with his bow -

Brown eyes flick ever so slightly in his direction.

The arrow pierces the stone in the ceiling above the men. He takes a deep, steady breath and jumps from his perch, hand outstretched as he snatches the amulet from the old man’s hands and lands in a roll on the other side of the chasm.

“No!” The man shouts.

Hanzo stands on shaky feet, covered in dirt and knees scraped to hell under this pants. 

But the Heart is in his hands.

He can feel it burn against the skin of his palm. Power rushing through him reminiscent to drinking cool, clear water on a hot day. It curls under his skin and ripples up the tattoo on his arm until it settles, gentle and content, in his soul.

“Don’t move.”

Hanzo glances to his left.

Guns are pointed at him from every merc except for Jesse.

The old man has a rifle now, eyes wide and red and dark from lack of sleep. From greed, “That Heart is mine, Shimada.”

Hanzo holds the heart up with two fingers, “This?” He asks, “I believe this is mine. What did you call it, Jesse? Finders keepers?”

Jesse lets out a nervous laugh, “I wouldn’t be gettin’ witty there, Hanzo. He will shoot you.”

“Yes.” Hanzo nods to the bandage on his arm, freshly bleeding once again, “I am familiar with how eager he is to shoot me.”

Jesse takes a step forward, throat moving as he swallows, “Come on doll, what did yer brother say?” He waves to the men behind him, “This isn’t worth dying for.”

“The dragons were given to help the world.” Hanzo says, “I can not hand it over to someone who will use it against its original purpose.”

“Just kill him!” The leader snarls.

“No!” Jesse cries out, “Let me - let me talk to him.”

“Too goddamn soft.” He yanks Jesse back by the red bandana around his neck and he hits the floor, gun pointed at his head.

Hanzo’s chest seizes and he takes an abortive, instinctive step forward. Once upon a time, saving Jesse was second nature.

He’s spent the better part of his career getting Jesse out of trouble. Cutting him out of traps.

Hanzo looks down at the amulet in his hands.

_ Are you prepared to do what you must, to protect what is yours _ ?

The question from his dream.

“Jesse.” He looks up, “Do you trust me?”

Jesse gives him a lopsided, sad smile, “With my life, darlin’.”

“Enough talk.” The leader stands at the edge of the gap, gun raised at Hanzo, “No Shimada survives. I will have those dragons.”

“You are a fool.” Hanzo lifts the amulet over his head and it thumps against his chest. He pulls an arrow from the quiver at his back and aims it at the Deadlock leaders face, “Only a Shimada can control the dragons.”

The tattoo boils. It ripples, icy and tingly, until the ink from his arm rises in the shape of two azure dragons. They roar with the release of his arrow, filling the room with wind and heat, tearing through screaming men and flesh.

Leaving Jesse McCree untouched between them.

The Dragon’s Heart pulses against Hanzo’s own.

  
  
  


\------------

  
  


The train bumps and rattles him as it makes the long, slow trek to Hanamura.

He holds a single card between his fingers, golden, resplendent writing in simple lettering on the front and a handwritten phone number on the back.

 

_ Hanzo steps out of the cave without Jessee. The renegade explorer is perfectly capable of finding his own way out. Hanzo shows him no pity. _

_ A woman stands in the center of the makeshift camp, surrounded by the dead men Hanzo downed earlier. _

_ She is beautiful, long dark hair around her face and wearing something far too expensive out in this part of the forest. _

_ “Hanzo Shimada.” Her smile is predatory.  _

_ “Amélie Lacroix.” Hanzo mutters, “If Talon has come for the Heart, I do not plan on giving it up.” _

_ She chuckles and plucks a white card from the fabric of her left breast, “We do not want the dragons, Shimada.” She steps forward and hands him the card, “Talon wants  _ **_you_ ** _.” _

  
  


“Akande Ogundimu.” Hanzo mutters at the golden writing.

He scoffs and shoves the card into the pocket of his tattered jacket. His head hits the back of his seat, his entire body aches.

Sombra, Jack, and Reyes are most likely halfway to Gibraltar by now. Hanzo will be joining them in a few days for his next assignment.

He will welcome the distraction.

But first, home. Where Genji will be meeting him, waiting eagerly to show Hanzo the green, winding tattoo on his back. With a smiling Zenyatta in tow, he is sure.

“Can’t believe you’d leave a guy hangin’ like that.”

Hanzo cracks an eye open just as Jesse plops down in the seat beside him. Still dressed as he was in the temple. Still handsome and all Hanzo has ever wanted.

He wants him to leave.

“Why are you here?” He asks instead.

“Hm.” Jesse settles into the train seat with an exaggerated sigh, “Well, you see, I found out yesterday that Dragons exist and then I watched them obliterate armed men and one of the most powerful gang leaders in the world.”

“An exciting day indeed.” Hanzo hums.

A long, loaded pause, “You gonna tell me why yer fancy magic dragons didn’t touch me, Hanzo?”

Hanzo stares at him.

This beautiful, treacherous man, who he was utterly and irrevocably in love with. Whom he was willing to sacrifice to keep his families ancient power out of the wrong hands.

_ Yours,  _ his dragons mutters.

_ Mine _ , Hanzo agrees.

“You already know why.” He whispers.

Jesse laughs, soft and throaty.

He tugs his hat down over his eyes and places a hand, palm up on the dividing arm rest.

Hanzo sets his palm against Jesse’s and closes his eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for taking this ride with me! Please check out the artists amazing artwork for this fic!
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for the continues support, comments, and kudos!


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